Blurry
by Robinpoppins
Summary: A non-linear look at Rory's Birthday Parties with a LL slant. Written for the CWS Season 1 Ficathon.
1. Yes

**A/N: Well, hello there friends! I always miss you when I'm gone! I tried to put out another chapter of the now infamous Booty Call before I started working on my story for the CWS ficathon, but certain things got in the way. I graduated from college. I helped organized the Gilmore Girls FanFic Chat-a-thon. I became co-head writer with Jewels12 of Virtual Season 9. I moved back in with my parents. I got my first real job. So yeah, for some reason, I suddenly have a life. When did that happen? But, I'm having loads of fun being busy, so I hope you don't mind if I take a break from Booty Call and focus my attention on this ficathon piece for a bit. I promise I'll go back when I'm done. Filo will have my head if I don't :)**

**First things first, I have many much people to thank. First of all, round of applause to sosmitten for all her help, expertise, and patience when dealing with Filo and I, the virgin ficathon writers/organizers. Also, hugs to the SCPP, my friends, especially Filo, Pink Hammer, and Olivia Jane for our 10 minute writing sessions the past couple days. They really whipped me into shape (completely not dirty, except where Olivia is concerned). Finally, everyone send roses to Filo, my buddy, fellow organizer, beta, and slave driver. This is a unique story and completely different from my normal voice, and it would cease to exist without her.**

**Wow, so far, this A/N has been so not funny. Completely unlike me. But, then again, so is this story. At this point, I hope you've all read my summary. To avoid confusion, I just want to clarify that non-linear means the story will be told out of order. Cool? Cool. I predicted that some people would not read my summary and then send me confused reviews, so I thought I should just clear that up a bit.**

**I've rambled long enough, don't you think? So, who's ready for a new fic? It's different and completely unlike my normal style (I guess I can't stress this enough, huh), so I hope you enjoy it. Now, on with the show!**

**Disclaimer: If Gilmore Girls was mine, the virtual season wouldn't be virtual. **

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**_Blurry_**

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**Chapter 1: "Yes"**

There were a lot of things she had left to do that night.

The living room was littered with trash. Every dish she owned, and even most of Sookie's diningware, was sitting unwashed in her kitchen sink. She needed to scrub the big red stain left on her couch from when an overexcited Babette spilled her drink. And, as Luke had pointed out, her porch rail was broken.

The same porch rail that she was precariously pressed against right now.

But, none of that mattered. He was there, and he was everywhere.

It was certainly a different feeling. Not different in any negative connotation of the word, though. No, it didn't feel weird. It's just…well, she hadn't exactly spent a lot of time thinking about Luke like this. Sure, it had crossed her mind from time to time, but most of these thoughts never reached a culmination.

Until now.

She sighed, allowing herself to press deeper into the kiss. The hand that had made its way into her hair tightened, and his fingers became tangled in her curls. She felt the need to reciprocate, touch him, be everywhere like he was everywhere, because, God, he felt good. But, her hands gripped his flannel shirt, rooted to the spot, relishing the way the material felt in between her knuckles.

He broke the kiss, whispered her name, and she felt dizzy from sheer exhilaration. She couldn't open her eyes, afraid that it had all been a dream. It wasn't until she felt him cup her face and feather light kisses on the bridge of her nose, that she opened them, desperate to sneak a peek at the sight before her.

What a sight it was.

"Luke," she breathed softly, and she found herself lost to another kiss simply because he had smiled. And, as she had realized tonight, she would always be a sucker for his smile.

In the back of her mind, there was the urge to stop. This was new and they needed to talk, because that's what you do when you cross a line. Or, at least she thought that was supposed to be done in situations like these. She was new at crossing these types of lines. The Lorelai of a couple years ago, hell, the Lorelai of a couple months ago would not have begged her parents for money, or dated her daughter's teacher, or kissed a close friend just because her mother said he looked at her a certain way. Things were changing and she knew that it should scare her. Some of those things still scared her. But, with him, she wasn't scared, and she wondered why that was.

She couldn't get close enough to him. With her hands still clutching his shirt, she pulled him to her, putting more weight on the broken rail behind her, praying it would hold. He groaned as the lower half of their bodies made contact for the first time. In response, his hands traveled from her face, down her back, resting just before he reached her hips. She was pulled even closer to him and his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into her skin. Lorelai moaned into his kiss. God, he felt so good.

One kiss blurred into the next. She lost track of how many times she had pressed her lips to his. Desire was a funny, funny thing, she realized. Makes you do things, see things differently. Makes you react to 

things you might not normally react to. But, then again, there was a part of her that wondered if she had made the right decision. Sure, he had responded to her touch, but she knew him, and she knew he was being careful. He was waiting for her to make the first move, the next move, and that worried her.

They were exposed like this, out on her front porch. She lived next to the busiest busybody in Stars Hollow, and even though that same busybody was drunk and would probably sleep through Tuesday, she didn't want to risk it. Plus, there was always the off chance that Rory would forget something and come back home unannounced and the last time she kept the romance thing a secret from her, it was bad. But, she didn't want to stop. She couldn't stop. Especially since Luke was now nibbling at her jaw.

Her hands moved away from his stomach and rubbed up and down his arms, fingers tingling at the sensation. He moved up and down her jaw line, expertly pinpointing her most sensitive spots. When he reached her neck, she gasped and dug her nails into his arms. She felt him smile as he breathed warm air against her ear. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her?

Inside. They needed to go inside. It was cold and they were outside and anyone could see them like this. Not that she didn't want to be seen with him. Or, maybe she didn't. She wasn't sure. She couldn't think straight with him sucking on her earlobe like that.

Going inside opened up a whole new realm of impossibility. There were rules. She made the rules, not only for Rory, but for herself, and she wasn't sure if she could break them with so little planning, just like that. Especially since he was still being so careful. His hands hadn't moved since he placed them on her back, and his lips had yet to venture past her throat.

And, she needed to know. She desperately needed to know if he wanted this, if it wasn't just a one time thing, if he meant what he said.

"Luke," she said, bringing her hand up to brush his cheek. He brought his face even to hers, brushed his nose against hers, and she had to remind herself to breathe. "Did you mean it?"

He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. The light from the paper lanterns danced across his skin, and cast a rosy glow on his face and he looked so wonderful to her that she thought she wouldn't be able to let him answer without pulling him to her again.

He studied her face, scrutinizing her with his brow wrinkled. "Mean what?"

"What you said. Earlier. Before this," she clarified as she gestured to their current position.

"Yes." His response was immediate, and she needed that.

It was so clear, with no hint of the hesitation she thought she was picking up from him, and it was completely reassuring. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, pulling away before it could turn into something more.

"Lorelai?" he questioned, confusion evident on his face. She nodded, hoping that one gesture would encourage him because she couldn't speak. He had said so much in one word and she could not say anything in response.

So, instead, she pushed against him, just enough to slip away from the broken rail. And she took his hand and led him inside.

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**A/N: Well, what do you think? Intriguing? Boring? Worth leaving a review? Let me know either way. I'm anxious to hear from you all.**

**This is the first of a ten chapter installment. I would have posted more, but for one thing, I am going out of town tomorrow, and for another thing, I haven't written chapter 2 yet. So, stay tuned. I should have a new chapter up for you soon.**

**Man, I am going to really have to bring the funny for the next A/N. I guess I'm not feeling very comedic right now. I blame the tone of the story. **

**Review, please!**


	2. Hallelujahs

**A/N: You guys are awesome! I thank each and every one of you for the enthusiastic reviews. It just makes writing this story so much easier.**

**Before we dive right in to the next installment, ****I just wanted to take time to bow at the feet of Filo, Mags, and Grizzly, who did everything from betaing to forcing me to get into a writing mood to patting my hand and whispering soothing words when I disliked something I had written. Also big thanks to the rest of the SCPP, who put up with my complaining by telling me to shut the heck up ;)**

******comedic interlude Look, I can juggle...Oh, wait... drops all the balls**

******On with the show!**

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**Chapter 2: Hallelujahs**

She couldn't breathe.

Lorelai weaved her way through the crowd of familiar faces, a forced smile plastered on her face. She had to get out of there. It was hot, and things were said, and she saw things, and now she couldn't stay in the house any longer. She was suffocating.

Down the stairs and through the living room she went. Past her daughter and Lane fiddling with the new laptop. Past Kirk and Bootsy doing a karaoke duet to "Islands in the Stream." Past a drunk Miss Patty attempting to feel up her lamp. Past Babette and Morey sharing a slow dance to Kirk and Bootsy's song. Past the person she couldn't bring herself to look at, nursing a beer in the corner of the room. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't care. She just had to get out of this place where she couldn't breathe.

"Hey, do you think I should break out shish-kabobs now, or wait until everyone has finished off the baklava?" Sookie asked as Lorelai dashed through the kitchen. But, Sookie's question remained unanswered, as her friend was already distracted by the hiss of the grill pan, and Lorelai's retreat was uninterrupted.

She pulled open the door gracelessly, wincing as it slammed against the wall. A blast of cold air greeted her, immediately chilling her face, and she closed her eyes and savored the sensation. She sucked in air in big, exaggerated gulps, gripping the wall next to her for support. Her lungs ached from the exertion, and she sank on to the floor, her back against the house.

This couldn't be happening. One minute he was Luke, and now…now? She wasn't sure how he fit into that Luke mold anymore. A few days ago, he poured her coffee and lectured her about the dangers of red meat. But lately, it was different, he felt different. He baked coffee cakes and blew up balloons, and was the almighty bearer of ice, and apparently, the one who looked at her like she was a porterhouse steak. She didn't understand the change, couldn't comprehend the change. But, as she thought that, she realized that maybe there wasn't a change. She had just refused to see anything different before.

He wasn't supposed to look at her like that. In fact, she should be offended. But, in the back of her mind, she wasn't, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

She felt like she had high expectations when it came to men and for that, she blamed both her extravagant childhood and movies. Sometimes, she wanted the grand gestures, Gere showing up in uniform, picking her up and carrying her away or Swazye pulling her out of the corner, and every time she had been on the receiving end of a gesture, any gesture, it always fell short. There was Christopher with his ill-time proposals, Mark McKenna with his fancy restaurants, and Lance Ellis with his abundance of floral deliveries. And then there was Max, driver of the gorgeous Mustang and instigator of the date that never was. The man who met her for coffee and stroked her sweater with utmost affection. The man who spun a bogus story about his uncle that she fell for, head over feet. And, she liked Max. She liked all those other men too. May have even loved some of them. But, they fell short.

When Luke walked in the house with the bag of ice, however, he was far from falling short. In fact, he looked and seemed like a freakin' god, because of his knack for knowing exactly what she needed when she needed it. He was truly worthy of Sookie's hallelujah exaltation. Seeing him with the ice, hugging him with the ice, made her body well up with hallelujahs.

That was new and very interesting indeed.

There was still Max to consider. She was feeling something for him, in spite of all the reasons why she shouldn't be. He was nice, and he liked Rory, and he wasn't bad to look at. It was the first guy she had been seriously interested in in a long time. She couldn't just ignore that. He stirred up emotions in her that were startling and appealing, and she liked that. He wasn't a safe choice. But, then again, when had she ever gone for the safe choice.

Luke certainly wasn't safe either.

She wondered if it worked like that. If one day you could feel so strongly for one person, and the next…

But that implied that she felt something and she wasn't sure if she did. Yet.

Luke wasn't about grand gestures, she realized. He was about diner food and saving the earth and gruff tirades. He made sure she ate, even if her diet went against everything he considered healthy. He poured her cup after cup of glorious coffee. In those first few years, after the Crap Shack had been purchased and the money was generally tight, he was kind enough to let it slide when the change in her pocket occasionally came up short. He never questioned whether or not she would pay it back. He never let on he knew about her money issues in front of Rory. He even allowed her to keep her pride intact by not saying anything when she could pay it back. He gave so freely. He volunteered without hesitation, even when she was pestering him with her stupid household chores. He put giant candles in a little girl's muffins on her birthday. He baked coffee cakes. He handwrote birthday messages on balloons. Never forgot a birthday. Never stayed mad at her for too long. And baked coffee cakes. Coffee cakes!

So many little things made Luke…Luke. And she knew that if it had been Chris, or Max, or any other person who had brought the ice to her door that night, she would not have flung her arms around him and had the desire to praise him with choruses of hallelujahs. But, he knew exactly what she needed and gave it to her. She needed him because of that.

She sank further into herself, resting her forehead on her knees. _Shit_. It was a wonder she had been able to start breathing again.

She heard the door open, but didn't budge from her position. She expected it to be Sookie, since she had witnessed her flight to the back porch, or even Rory. She didn't look up until the person who had joined her on the porch had cleared his throat and she realized that it was him.

"Hey," she said as she raised her head.

"Hey," Luke responded with a slight grin. "Some party."

"Yeah," Lorelai breathlessly stated. Try as she might, she couldn't smile, couldn't strike up the banter that symbolized normalcy for them. If there was ever a wrong time for him to see her, this was it. Not now. Not in the middle of a revelation. Not when she still doesn't know what it means. "It's something."

"You okay?"

"Oh," she said quietly, surprised by the question. "Uh, yeah…yeah. I'm good. I just…got hot. Couldn't breathe. I needed some air."

"Yeah," Luke nodded, and he took a seat next to her on the porch, mimicking her position with her knees pointed up. For the first time, she noticed he was carrying two beers in his hand. "It was a little stuffy."

"And Kirk was singing," she said, smiling in spite of her mouth's earlier aversion to it.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yes he was." He rested his head against the wall, the bill of his old hat bending under the pressure of it. He shifted his gaze to the dark yard.

She could only watch him.

"That for me?" Lorelai asked, gesturing to the beer in his hand.

He looked down at his hands, as if suddenly remembering that they were full. He handed the full bottle to her. "Yeah, here."

"Thanks."

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Luke seemed fascinated by the paper lanterns she had hung earlier that day. But she could only focus on how close their knees were to touching.

"Why did you come out here?" she asked, the question escaping her lips before she could even think about it.

Luke shrugged. "Saw you rushing out of here. You looked like you could use a drink." He turned to look at her, and their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat, and in that moment, her knee slipped and knocked lightly against his. But, if he felt it, she couldn't tell. His eyes were still locked on hers in such an intense stare, she had to look away.

"You always know," she mumbled under her breath, staring at her knees.

"What?" Luke asked softly, and she could tell he was still looking at her.

"Nothing," she said quickly, and she stood. "I should probably…" Lorelai trailed off, pointing to the door behind her.

"Check on the birthday girl?" he supplied.

"Yeah…You gonna stay out here?"

He nodded."It's quieter. No 'Islands in the Stream.'"

"Not a fan, I gather?"

"Not even close," Luke said with a grin.

"Okay, well, I should go." She walked to the door and wrapped her fingers around the knob. "Don't saunter off without saying goodbye."

"I won't," he promised. "And I never saunter."

She laughed and gave him a small wave as she opened the door.

There were so many little things, good things about him that resonated in her mind so loudly that they were practically screaming at her. Then, there were so many reasons why he shouldn't be a possibility, why he wouldn't be a safe choice. It scared her and confused the hell out of her and she wasn't ready to make him a possibility yet.

She went inside, wordlessly picked up a tray of shish-kabobs, and plastered the smile on her face again. She couldn't deal with any of this now. Right now, there was a party she was supposed to be hosting. There would be time, but it may have been coming a little sooner than she was ready for.

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**A/N: Well, what do you think? Know where this chapter fits into the grand scheme of things yet? Can't wait for more. Loved it? Hated it? Please let me know in your review. They really are helpful, I swear.**

**comedic interlude So, a piece of string walks into a bar, and the bartender says, "sorry, we don't serve strings here." So, the string goes outside, ties himself into a knot, frays his edges a bit, and walks back in. Now, the bartender was not a stupid man, and he said, "hey, aren't you the same piece of string that was in here a few minutes ago?" "No," the string said, "I'm afraid not." **

**Get it? Afraid not...Frayed knot! giant hook pulls Robin off stage**

**I hope to be back with the next installment soon!**


	3. Champagne

**A/N: You guys, you have no idea what the reviews mean to me. They really keep me going, especially since I am getting busier and busier as the new Virtual Season draws near. Thanks a ton! I love you all!**

**This chapter...well, actually, this story would cease to exist without the usual suspects. Send your thank you cards to Filo, Grizzly, Pink Hammer, Mags, Olivia (or Jane), and lulu. It certainly takes a village to get me to write a chapter.**

**:comedic interlude: This story is coming at you all the way from AZ. And, boy, is it's arms tired. **

**On with the show!**

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**Chapter 3: Champagne**

Sometimes she forgot.

She grabbed the glass of champagne unconsciously, stealthy sliding it off the passing tray as she had done at many parties, before retreating to her hiding spot on the staircase. It wasn't until she had pressed the glass to her lips that she had realized what she had done and why it was wrong. Old habits die hard.

So, she resorted to looking through the glass, turning it into a rudimentary kaleidoscope, watching the way the dresses of her mother's friends swished with the bubbles, and smiling at how the glass distorted the faces of her father's friends.

He found her like that sometime later, the skirt of her emerald satin dress taking up almost three steps, and a flute of champagne pressed to one eye. She had been so entertained by the champagne glass that she hadn't seen him approaching until he stepped on her dress. He shoved some of her skirt aside in order to sit next to her on the step, and she turned just in time to see him push some of his curls back with his fingers. He needed a haircut.

He nudged her in the ribs, and she nudged back. It was nice to know that some of their childhood habits remained, even though they, and their relationship, for that matter, had changed so drastically recently. It was the very reason why she sank into him as he put his arm around her. It was comforting, he was comforting, and that was what she needed that night, even though she was supposed to be happy. It was, after all, her birthday.

"Nice dress," Christopher remarked, running his eyes up and down the satin. He patted the poofy sleeves with a smirk, waiting for Lorelai to explain the ensemble.

She rolled her eyes. "Emily," she stated with exasperation, the one word answer enough to encompass all sorts of atrocities, least of all the reject frock from the Emerald City collection.

"I especially like the sleeves. Very you."

"Yes, not only does the skirt make me feel like an extra from Tara, but the sleeves can be used as a floatation device in the event of a crash landing over water." Chris laughed, and she smiled, attempting to feel like she was more involved in the conversation than her thoughts were. Her thoughts were far from this staircase, this house, and even this universe.

"What in the world was she thinking?" he asked, shaking his head.

"That the sleeves detract from the protruding belly, would be my guess."

The comment seemed to ignite a change in his demeanor as the conversation halted and he clammed up. He was still uncomfortable with the very idea of "it," so it wasn't at all unexpected. She just wished he would react sometimes. Cry, yell, and maybe even throw things, like she had done. It would certainly make her feel more comfortable about "it". But, he hadn't yet, and that worried her.

"You done with that?" Christopher asked after a few minutes of silence, gesturing to her impromptu plaything that was now sitting by her feet. But, he didn't wait for her response and reached over her knees to pick it up, downing the champagne in one gulp.

And she couldn't help but feel sad about this.

"Shouldn't the more appropriate question be what am I doing with a glass of champagne?" she said snidely, attempting not to look forlorn as he placed the flute a few steps above them, out of her reach.

Chris shrugged."That's a bad thing?"

"Oh, come on. You aren't that dumb," she said with a sigh, rolling her eyes again. "I forgot," she explained quietly. "I forgot and picked up the glass and almost took a drink before I realized what I was doing. Weird thing to forget, I know, but, yeah…Sometimes I do."

"Me too," he admitted softly, unable to look at anything but the red Converse tennis shoes he had somehow managed to walk out of the house wearing. "Everyone is wondering where you are," he said quickly, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Everyone who?" she asked, even though she didn't want to ignore his admission about their current situation. It was like pulling teeth to get him to bring the subject up, and even harder to keep him on topic when he did.

"John, Jenn, Steph, Beth, Greg…"

"Oh, that everyone. The usual suspects."

He nodded. "We're in the poolhouse. I told them I would go and find you."

"Guess the sub-party's in full swing, then."

"Pretty much."

She leaned against the rails of the banister, pressing her head on the wood, and observed the party below without her champagne telescope. It was no longer amusing. In fact, it was frightening, and she dug her nails into the skin of her arms as she caught a glimpse of the path that was in front of them.

"Do you really see us like this?" she questioned, not turning to look at him.

"Like what?"

"The tuxes. More of these dresses. The parties. Champagne. Wearing a bowtie and pretending you're even interested in insurance. Me splitting my days between the DAR and planning events for your clients. Our kid with the nanny. Doesn't really seem to fit, does it?"

"It could work, Lor," he said after a long pause. She could hear his sneakered feet shuffling uncomfortably, and she had to suppress a sob. She dug her nails into her arms more, wincing from the pain.

She couldn't break down now, not like this.

"I didn't ask if it could work," was her reply, voice choked and unnatural to her ears.

"There you are!" Emily's voice reverberated off the walls of the small staircase. Lorelai and Christopher jerked their heads up to face the older woman, a vision in topaz taffeta. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Well, I've been here," Lorelai said smartly, pressing her fingers under her eyes to stop them from welling up.

"It's time," her mother announced primly.

"Time?" Lorelai questioned, even though, in the back of her mind, she knew better than to ask that question.

"You are the hostess of this party. You need to make a speech. You need to thank your guests for coming to your birthday party."

"Oh," she said, scowling. "That." She shot a helpless look to Christopher, who was still staring at his shoes like he had been caught doing something wrong. She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that night, only to be met with a withering glare from Emily.

"Lorelai," she said, pronouncing every syllable of her name with annoyance. "Let's go."

"Duty calls," she mumbled under her breath and used the banister to help herself up.

She followed her mother down the stairs, not able to bring herself to look at anything but the way her mother's taffeta skirt swayed as she walked. Emily waited for her on the last step, stiffly linking her arm with Lorelai's as she plastered on a smile to conceal her vexation. Lorelai mimicked this gesture, cheeks instantly aching from the exertion.

Emily leaned in close to Lorelai, the smile still present. "I think under the circumstances, I've been very fair tonight. I didn't cancel the party after what happened. I tried very hard to make your sixteenth birthday beautiful, just like the one I have imagined for you for years. I haven't asked you to do anything to prepare for it. But, I am asking you to do this. I think it's only right, after everything I've done for tonight, after everything I've not asked you to do, that you get up and show my friends and your father's friends what a graceful and refined young lady you have become, especially since this may be the last chance for you to do so as our daughter and not someone else's wife and mother. Do you think you can do that?" She said the last part stiffly, attempting to keep her voice devoid of emotion, even though Lorelai could sense the desperation in her mother's speech.

"Okay," Lorelai found herself answering, because even though Emily drove her crazy, and even though they were at odds 99.9 of the time, it did sound fair. Her parents had been fair to her. They hadn't kicked her out of the house. They hadn't pushed the abortion or adoption issue. They had come up with a plan that would provide well for her and her child for the rest of their lives. And even though it was the complete opposite of what she wanted, and even though she wasn't happy, she had to give them that.

"And, for God's sake, put your shoulders back! Honestly, you are much too pretty to be constantly slumping your shoulders like you should be ringing bells for a living."

But, then again, maybe she shouldn't give them that much credit.

Richard met them at the bottom of the stairs, still engrossed in a business conversation with Floyd Stiles, the man that, to Lorelai, represented everything that was wrong with the world. Richard politely ended the conversation Floyd with a friendly pat on the shoulder, and gave Emily a peck on the cheek before finally fixing his gaze on Lorelai. In the past, he may have told her that she looked lovely, or that her dress was very pretty, but this was no longer the past, and he had hardly spoken more than three words to her since the big announcement a few weeks ago.

"Well," he said, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully. "Shall I announce you?"

"Go up a few more steps, Lorelai," Emily commanded, pointing behind her.

"I just walked down the stairs. You want me to go back up them?"

"People need to be able to see you."

"Well, you should have told me as we were walking down. Would've saved me some time and effort."

"Listen to your mother, Lorelai," Richard said dully, looking at his watch. It annoyed her, the way they were acting. She didn't understand how they could put on this façade, why they would even want to throw a party in the middle of all this. And, most of all, it really bothered her that her father wouldn't even look at her. At least Emily had the decency to do that.

A waiter with a tray passed by the staircase, and noticing that her parents' backs were turned, Lorelai leaned forward and snagged what appeared to be pate on French bread and a napkin. She climbed up a few more steps, as her mother had demanded and bit into the bread. She immediately spat it back out.

"Oh my God!" she said loudly, face distorted in disgust.

Emily whipped around. "What on earth?"

"What the hell is this?" she asked, using her teeth to scrape the remaining flavor off her tongue.

"Not now, Lorelai," Emily hissed as Richard cleared his throat to begin his introduction. She gave her daughter a light tap on the shoulder, an unspoken push to get her up a few steps.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Richard bellowed, his loud voice carrying over the din of the gathered crowd. One by one, they silenced, and Emily gave Richard a quick nod, to urge him to continue. "My daughter, Lorelai Victoria, tonight's honoree, has a few words to share with you."

"Uh, hi everyone," Lorelai began uncertainly and she looked down at the wadded up napkin in her hand. "God, hope you didn't try the pate. Well, I mean it's good, but only if you like eating Clorox."

Emily shot her a look, and seeing her react like that made Lorelai smile in twisted pleasure. It was wrong, but it did make her feel better, and it was her birthday, so she went with the feeling. "Great party, huh? I mean, it's everything I dreamed about for this day and more." Her voice became high pitched and syrupy, taking on the tone of many of her female classmates, and it seemed to fit the persona she was attempting to mold herself into for this speech. "I especially love the candles all over the place. What a nice touch. And, did you notice? Exactly six inches apart…Although, I hate to be the one to point this out, but the set on the mantle in the parlor? One is off by about two centimeters. But, I guess that stick has to be pretty high up your butt for you to notice."

She was on a roll, the insults undulating off her tongue effortlessly. She couldn't bring herself to look down at her mother, but she could feel her seething from her perch a few steps down. And she knew if she focused on the faces of the crowd, she would have to stop. It was terrible, what she was doing, but she felt compelled to keep going. The rest of her life had gone to hell, what harm would a few more sins do to her now?

"Oh, and thank you so much for all your generous gifts. Checks are great. You can never go wrong with checks. I really appreciate gifts that come in envelopes, because, frankly, anything else would have to collect dust behind a slab of glass in this house."

Richard cleared his throat loudly, and she took it as her cue to wrap her speech up. "Anyway, it was great to see all of you. We really should get together like this more often. But, if you promise to keep this little tidbit a secret, I know my parents are planning another little shindig in my honor in just a few months time... So, thanks, and again, great to see you. I'll be here all night and be sure to try the veal!"

And, with that, she turned on her heel and marched back up the stairs, not giving a second thought to Christopher's stunned expression until she slammed the door to her bedroom.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, on her bed emerald skirt fanning out around her. It wasn't until she looked at her clock that she realized that hours had passed. She had expected Emily to follow her immediately after her speech and make her endure the lecture to end all lectures, but she never came. If she had pulled a stunt like that before, it definitely would have happened. But, as she reminded herself several times that night, it was no longer before. Funny how a little pink stick could change so much.

She sank back onto her pillows, effectively crushing the curls her mother's personal hairdresser spent so much time on. She didn't care anymore. It took her awhile before she noticed that her palm was resting on her growing stomach. That had been happening a lot lately. It hadn't been real before, when her stomach was still flat and her parents were still oblivious. But now that she could see her body beginning to change and now that her parents had been told, it was real. So fucking real.

Hot tears rolled down her face and into her hair. She brought her other hand to her stomach, gently massaging her skin as she ran her fingers over the tiny bump.

"Some night, kid," she whispered with a sniff.

There was a knock at the door, and after a short pause, her mother walked in, still radiant in her taffeta gown. Lorelai rose up on her elbows and sighed.

"Sure, come in," she said sarcastically, and pushed herself up until her back was against the headboard again.

"I don't think I can take any more of that from you, young lady," Emily spat. "I hope you're happy with yourself, because you certainly made a mockery of this entire family."

"No," she said quietly, her eyes only able to focus on the hand still resting on her stomach. "I'm not happy."

Emily shook her head wearily. "Well, that makes two of us." She turned toward the door, the sound of her heels on the floor reverberating off the walls. When she reached the door, she placed her hand on the doorframe and stopped. "I honestly don't know what to do anymore," she said, disappointment evident in her voice, her back still to Lorelai. "Or what I should say to get through to you. You had so much promise, Lorelai…So much potential." Without even one last glance at her daughter, she walked out of the room and closed the door.

And only then did Lorelai finally let out a sob.

* * *

**A/N: So, this chapter veers a little from what you might be expecting from this story, but I hope you liked it anyway. I feel that it is very important to the overall story being told. But, you wanna know the best way to let me know what you think? I bet you know. Come on...Yes! That's right. A review! Please review. **

**:comedic interlude: What's brown and sticky?**

**A stick!**

**Sorry, I had a longer joke lined up but it's 4am and I need to go to bed. **

**:juggles:**

**:drops all the balls:**

**:remembers that she can't juggle still:**


	4. Constant

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay. I was working on setting up the outline for Virtual Season 9, and I just couldn't find time to write (and someone wanted to know where to find the virtual season, so you can find it at virtualgilmore./). But I want to thank you all so much for your reviews so far. Your support is what is keeping me going! **

**Also, a special shoutout to Filo and Grizzly, the best betas in all the land! And to the rest of the SCPP for forcing me to write when I did have a little bit of down time. You guys are the best.**

**Now, on with the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Constant**

It started with a proposal.

It crossed her mind that this line had the potential to begin an epic story for the grandchildren, but that would imply that she had thought about having grandchildren with him.

She hadn't. She had never allowed herself to think that far ahead when it came to him.

It wasn't that Luke was such a bad idea. If she sat down to really think about his credentials, she was fairly certain he would rank high. But, there were other things to think about. He was a bit of a loner. He could be grumpy. He was a good friend to her. And, most importantly of all, Rory loved him. That was enough right there to cross him off the list altogether. If there were a way that she could guarantee that Rory wouldn't be hurt, if she could get some sort of assurance that they would be happy, maybe she would consider Luke a possibility. But, for now, she couldn't. She wouldn't. So, she didn't think about it. It was too tempting an offer to dwell on.

* * *

It had been an interesting day. Emily was…surprising, to say the least. She bought Rory a bracelet. Which lit up. Which cost less than fifty dollars. So unlike the mother she knew, the woman who wouldn't let her play in her frilly dresses or buy her the denim jacket she just had to have when she was thirteen, because apparently, denim is the root of all evil. What threw Lorelai off the most was the fact that she actually had a good time. She smiled, she laughed. Her mother had even told her a seedy story about one of the DAR ladies while the cashier rang up and wrapped the bracelet. The whole afternoon just didn't compute. She needed stability, something that would bring her out of hectic, bizarro land, and back to the place she knew and loved. And that was why she called Rory and told her to meet her at Luke's. Luke's was a constant.

Things appeared normal when she walked into the diner. The only thing that seemed off was that Rory wasn't already at a table waiting for her. Her brow scrunched in confusion as she considered all the reasons why her normally punctual daughter might be late. Luke was behind the counter, pencil in hand as he jotted down dinery code on a small spiral pad.

"She's not here yet," he stated as he met Lorelai's gaze, adequately interpreting her perplexed expression.

"All right. You'll have to entertain me until she arrives," she quipped as she took a seat at the counter, stashing the tulle monstrosities her mother had insisted on buying on the stool next to her. "Okay, Burger Boy, dance."

She smiled up at him because this was exactly what she needed after her afternoon of department store madness. She needed the smell of coffee in the air and the cozy atmosphere and familiar banter. And, because the banter was familiar, she found comfort in the fact that she could anticipate his response to her comment. She expected the patented Luke Danes eye roll, perhaps a few monosyllabic grunts. Or maybe, if he was feeling especially playful, he would retort with a quip of his own.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, looking up from his notepad nonchalantly, as if what he said wasn't any more important than buying a pair of socks.

She certainly didn't expect that. And it was a big deal.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her jaw went slack, and any attempt to manipulate her mouth to form words was lost in the shock. Had he honestly said what she thought he just said?

He had. She knew she had heard him correctly.

It was just so…odd. And so unlike the Luke she knew, the Luke she expected. The Luke tone was there. The Luke expression never wavered. What the hell had happened when the words came out?

She felt her brain somehow kick back into gear, and when she opened her mouth again, she managed to eke out a, "What?"

But, at the same time, and without her even realizing it at first, she found that she was contemplating it, even though her mind should've been grasping for the most appropriate answer. Then there were the images she suddenly couldn't escape from: movie nights on her lumpy couch. Goodbye kisses with a counter between them. A hand to hold under the table at Friday night dinners. Cold nights warmed by flannel sheets and his embrace. Walking home after town meetings, with Rory in between them, talking animatedly. She could see it. It wasn't perfect, but it seemed…good.

And, just as quickly as they came to her, it suddenly didn't seem like a bad idea to say yes.

Luke shrugged, seemingly gauging her reaction, and said, "Just looking for something to shut you up."

She should've been relieved. She should've been able to laugh it off, and move on to the next subject without another thought. She should've just said yes anyway, just to see how he would react. But, she wasn't able to do any of those things. The images were still there. Him cooking breakfast in her kitchen in sweatpants and socks. Cool evenings on the squeaky front porch swing, her legs in his lap. Late night cram sessions with Rory, notes and textbooks spread all over the living room. She would read off notes about the Canterbury Tales, and he would quiz Rory on the Franco-Prussian War as he replenished their study food and coffee supplies. He wore crooked, brown reading glasses in her mind. She wondered if he really did.

She couldn't focus as she rambled on about Rory's party. She was amazed that she was capable of even speaking. She saw the glasses perched on his nose and she couldn't stop thinking about whether he was the type of guy who wore white socks with gold or red stripes.

Which was why when he told her that she didn't have to ask him to come to Rory's party, she said that she would like him to come. She didn't say that Rory would like it if he came, or it would be nice to see him there. She said _she_ would like it if he came. She. Lorelai. And she could tell from his small smile that he had caught the implication too.

His smile was different and exciting and a little dangerous, and she didn't know what the hell she should be thinking, or whether it was okay that she was thinking anything at all. He was her friend. Those images, the ones now playing on a loop in her head, were not healthy and not conducive to their friendship. She needed to find a way to stop, to somehow purge her thoughts before it changed things. The status quo couldn't change. She needed the status quo. Especially when so many things were changing in her life already.

But, she couldn't stop when he was looking at her like that.

Rory's entrance into the diner was never a more welcome sight.

* * *

She dreamed of him that night.

She was hazy on most of the events, and any other person who might have been there was faceless, but she knew he was there. It was that Luke-related certainty that made her sure it was him.

She thought they were at her house, but things were different, as they always were in dreams. But, the place felt like hers, and somehow she knew she belonged to it. She got the distinct impression that she was at Rory's birthday party, and she needed Rory, but she couldn't find her. She wandered from room to room, lost in a sea of confusion, because she knew this was her house, and she knew she should be able to find Rory, but she couldn't. The rooms felt different, and the atmosphere wasn't the same, and she was so flustered that she started to sob.

Luke found her.

She didn't know where he had come from or how he had known she was there, but he appeared out of nowhere, as people often do in dreams, and pulled her into his arms. He held her as she cried, and he kissed her. It wasn't how Luke, her friend, should kiss her, and it wasn't the way she, Luke's friend, should be kissing back. But, she didn't care. He was there, and he had found her, and even though in the back of her mind she knew what they were doing wasn't normal, she found comfort in it.

She awoke sometime after that, the pillow wet with her tears, and a serenity over her that she couldn't exactly explain. She liked the peace, and she liked that he was the one to give it to her. This fact didn't unnerve her until the next morning.

The nighttime was different like that. In that period between dreams, any decision seemed right. And that night, the idea of Luke with her felt right. But, it was morning, and in the morning she could see how things would change, and she remembered what she was like in relationships, and she remembered how much she valued his friendship and treasured how he was a constant in her life. And, when she thought about Rory at Chilton, and Max, and Friday Night Dinners, and her mother and the pudding, it was just too overwhelming. Ideas and rules and people that she had labeled as normal were slipping through her fingers, becoming abnormal, and she couldn't afford to lose another constant in her life. She just needed time to get these Luke-related thoughts out of her head, because if she didn't, things would change, and contrary to popular belief, she didn't like change.

After that morning, she didn't go to Luke's for two days.

* * *

**A/N: Well, how was it? I realize it's a little angsty, and a little different from what I thought it would turn out to be, but I like it. And I promise you will like where the story ends up. But, how will I know if you liked it or didn't like it? When you review, of course. So please review to let me know of your thoughts. I always like to hear them.**

**I don't know how it became a tradition for this story, but now I feel like I have to end the chapter in a joke. I couldn't think of a good one myself, so here's one from my friend and yours, Jewels12: What's green and has 5 wheels?**

**:tap dances while we wait for the answer:**

**Grass! She lied about the wheels.**

**Well, there you go. If you hated it, you can contact Jewels on her profile :)**

**Don't forget to review!**


	5. Arc

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Mags, in honor of the day of her birth. Wub you!**

**Many much thanks for Filo, for being the best beta in all the land, and lulu, for her knowledge that is invaluable. And thanks to my writing buddies in the SCPP, I'm addicted to your input.**

**Oh, and thank you guys, for all your reviews and support. It is what keeps me posting. For serious.**

**Note the ratings change. It's gettin' hot in herre.**

**Now, on with the show!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5: Arc**

There were still things she had left to do that night.

If she just opened her eyes a little, she might catch a glimpse of the trash that littered the living room, or the red stain Babette had left on her couch. The lamp in the corner had been knocked over and she could hear a steady hum from the karaoke machine, signifying that the microphone was still on. If she walked a little to the left, she may even be able to see that her kitchen was a still a disaster area.

However, the thing was, she couldn't open her eyes. Hadn't been able to since the moment they walked in the door.

No, she couldn't see. But, she could feel. Feel every damn thing he was doing to her.

They hadn't made it very far. She had only walked as far as the archway before she had to touch him again, to have him everywhere again, because just a few seconds apart from him was already too much for her to take.

There they stayed, Lorelai pressed against the arch, and Luke ensuring that there was as little space between them as possible. And as soon as she felt his arm wrap around her waist, and as soon as she felt her back mold to the arch in the wall, she stopped seeing.

She had no concept of time. They may have been there for hours. It could've been minutes. She didn't know, didn't even want to take a guess. She only knew that time had passed, judging from the way her lips felt, chapped and burning from the intensity of his kisses. But, she couldn't stop, as much as her lips pleaded for a break, and her lungs ached from the exertion she was putting forth. She wouldn't stop, as he tugged at the collar of her shirt, peeling it back as far as it could stretch, allowing him to feather kisses onto her collar bone.

Her head fell back as far as the arch allowed, gasping as she felt his breath on her skin, coming so much closer to her breasts. She was hyper-sensitive to his touch now, her skin tingling in the wake of his kisses. She let out a moan, using her hands to anchor his head to the spot, letting his curls wrap around her fingers. He groaned, and she realized she may have been gripping his hair too hard. She let go.

He lifted his head up in response to this, brushing his thumb over one of her closed eyelids before placing a kiss there too. Her eye twitched in response, and that action alone nearly brought her to tears, because he paid such careful attention to every part of her.

Her eyes opened, and she saw him. She watched as he cupped her cheeks, her eyes drawn to the creases of the knuckles of his right hand. He leaned in again, brushing her nose with his as he had done so many times that night. Their breaths mingled, and she found herself carefully palming the back of his head again, longing for him to stay just like that.

He inhaled sharply and broke away. But, his hands stayed, his thumbs lightly tracing her cheekbones.

It was just…so much. Him, being there the way he was, being thrown into this situation where she could see a way they could work, could be happy. It was so much. She felt her eyes well before she even realized what was happening.

"Hey," he said, his voice cracking. "Don't…You don't have to-"

"I'm fine," she warbled, closing her eyes again and leaning into his touch. "It's okay."

"Okay," he said uncertainly as her hand dropped from the back of his head. "I uh…I want to make sure that this is okay…That you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Lorelai asked softly, her eyebrow arched in confusion.

"Lorelai," he sighed, as if he didn't want to answer the question, looking down at his feet.

"I know what you're probably thinking, what you probably assume I'm thinking but just…don't, okay? I think you know me well enough that I don't jump into things like this."

He remained silent, his face coloring slightly as he still refused to look at her. "I just don't want to do something we'll regret later."

It was almost as if he said, "I don't want to do something you'll regret later," she knew, from the way he said it and the way he looked away from her.

"Luke," she responded, cupping his cheek with her hand so that he would look at her. He closed his eyes as she ran her hand across his cheek, relishing the way his stubble gently pricked her skin.

"This isn't the way I normally do things," he said, almost crossly, turning his head slightly so he could press a kiss into her palm.

"Me neither," she shrugged, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. He inhaled, lifting one hand to keep her there.

"I don't want you to think-"

"I don't," she quickly interrupted. She lifted her head up, made eye contact with him again, her hand still on his cheek.

He moved even closer to her, pushed her further into the arch, and ground into her. She only was able to let out a small gasp of pleasure, before he was kissing her again, hard, and she was lost to his direction.

He pulled away, just as quickly as the kiss began. "Upstairs?" he questioned boldly, his voice now hoarse.

"Not yet," she managed to gasp out breathily, wrapping one arm around his back to grip his flannel.

"Okay," he said.

And then she kissed him again.

* * *

No, they hadn't made it very far.

She remembered very little how they ended up in this position. She remembered him saying they should go upstairs. Several times, in fact. She remembered taking her shirt off, remembered the expression on his face when she did, and the way he carefully fingered her bra strap, before he took his time, kissing, nipping, licking her from forehead to navel.

After that, the details were hazy.

She griped the arch harder, her hand over her head in such a way that she could start to feel her arm tingle and go numb. But she didn't move it, needing the hand where it was, anchoring her as she rode out waves of pleasure. He thrust into her steadily, each time letting out short breaths as he put forth more exertion. She wondered how he was even able to catch his breath, since she scarcely remembered to breathe herself, holding it in until her lungs couldn't take it anymore and gasping as it came back to her.

She was completely dependent on him at this point. She needed him to hold her up, even though the sweat from exertion had made their bodies slick. She needed him to help make sure she didn't alert the neighbors to what they were doing. She needed him to just keep doing what he was doing, because, God, something like this shouldn't be stopped.

As her back slid up and down the wall, and as she moaned his name recklessly, she remembered more: She remembered closing her eyes, reaching around to feel for his shirt, only to come in contact with his bare skin. When his shirt came off, she couldn't recall, but off it was, and she took full advantage of it. She remembered him lifting her, naked, carrying her only a few feet to the right before pushing her against the wall, where not long after that, he was inside her.

She rubbed his back, matching the force of his thrusts, feeling the indentions made by her nails. And, suddenly, he was kissing her, slowing his pace as he took his time massaging her tongue with his.

It's too much for her to take, and she urges him on, pressing and squeezing the legs that are wrapped around him harder. He took the hint, detaching from her lips and speeding up as much as their position would allow.

Then she was lost again, drowning in a sea of burning touches and rapture and reluctance and lust. It's getting harder for him too, she saw, as he grunted with every thrust, whispering her name intermittently. And then she felt herself letting go.

She came hard, taking her hand off the arch for the first time to hold on to him as he pushed in and out of her with no conceivable rhythm. Her mouth was open, and try as she might to make something coherent come out of her mouth, nothing did. She thought that perhaps the silence unnerved him, and as she came down, she opened her eyes, desperate to know what he was thinking, and wondering if she was at the point that she could even read his expression at this state.

His face was such a beautiful sight, with his eyes dark and his forehead wrinkled and glistening and his hair disheveled, and he was showing no signs of slowing down. She finally found her voice again, calling out his name much louder than she intended, and God, she's coming again, much more vocally, not sure she could keep this up, even though she longed to. And this time he came too.

He dropped one of her legs, but still held on to her, and she was grateful, reveling in the contact. He kissed her forehead, lips lingering ever so slightly, and she smiled.

This was different. Things were changing. Things had already changed. She wanted to be afraid of it, but in his arms she just…couldn't.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my first venture into smut. I know I did ;)**

**REVIEW!!!  
**


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